


Aerial

by irisbleufic



Category: Toy Soldiers (1991)
Genre: Boarding School, Canon Character of Color, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Missing Scene, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-01
Updated: 2006-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every second—and every angle—counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aerial

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in March 2006.

"But if you get us shot? We're gonna be _pissed_."

Joey ignored Ric's wisecrack and unfolded his arms, unsure of what to do with them. Let Billy reassure them; let Billy be the one to tell everybody it was going to be all right. Sure, it would be all right: it would be all right as long as Billy realized how fucking complicated this plan of his really was. It didn't mean they could sit around giving high-fives and congratulating each other on their brilliance. It meant starting _now_.

"…in the morning, got it?" Billy was saying, apparently to Hank.

"No," Joey said, and walked over to the window. He glanced outside briefly, scanning the grounds below. Perimeter, searchlight, flickering shapes beyond the tents and trucks. He went down on all fours and reached for his pile of stuff in the corner, only for the lights to go out, plunging the room into eerie, interrupted darkness.

"Ow! Derek, that was my _foot_."

"Sheesh, sorry," muttered Yogurt.

"Hey," Snuffy said, "you guys heard Billy. Stuff a sock in it."

"You first, Snuff," Joey said, not even bothering to whisper. He dug through his clothes, finally scratching the cover of his notebook. _Here we go_ , he thought. _Now all I gotta do is find enough light to_ —

"What the _fuck_?" he hissed, spinning around, banging one foot off the wall in the process. "Fuck, ow, _fuck_ —"

Billy kicked his ass again, lightly, and crouched down beside him.

"Hey, Joey, shhhh. Not so loud," he whispered, both hands on Joey's shoulders. "What's the matter?"

"Better give him what he's asking for," mumbled Snuffy, drowsily.

"Hey, I'll come over there and stuff that sock for you," Billy offered, warning in his voice.

There was a dull smack that could only be Hank's hand connecting with some portion of Snuffy, judging by the sound Snuffy made and how indignant it was. At least it got him to shut up. Even Billy's luck with that was only about fifty-fifty.

"Joey, you've gotta be kidding me," said Billy, taking hold of the sketchbook with one hand. "You'll ruin your eyes."

"You sound like my mom again," Joey told him, yanking it away. "No, I won't."

"It's late. Drawing's the least of our concerns right now. C'mon, let's rest."

Of all the times Billy could have chosen to be obtuse, this one took the cake. Joey tugged the pencil out of his sketchbook's wire ring binding and tapped the middle of Billy's forehead with it.

"The least of _your_ concerns, maybe, but not the least of mine. Now, why don't you take a nap."

"Oh, yeah, Joey," Billy said, almost glaring at him. "That's funny. Where was your sense of humor ten minutes ago?"

"Up your ass," Joey said under his breath, flipping pages. "Okay, now, you've gotta tell me everything we're going to need sketches of, all right?"

Billy blinked at him as if none of what he was saying made any sense.

"We've got to collect information before we can even—"

"Billy," said Joey, taking hold of his arm, "I am _dead_ serious. We didn't get any sleep last night, and we're not gonna get any tonight, either."

"Neither are the rest of us," whispered Ric, sounding worried.

"Go to sleep," Joey told him, giving the bedspread a dismissive yank. "Pictures of all the guys?"

"What, of all of _us_?"

"No, of _them_ ," Joey answered, tilting his head in the direction of the door.

Billy smacked his forehead, rubbing it as if he was trying to wake up from some nightmare. _If only_ , Joey thought, and started scribbling a list of every terrorist he could think of based on facial features and clothing. Billy leaned over his shoulder.

"You're forgetting the one that speaks bad English."

Joey shook his head and kept writing. "They all speak bad English."

"Not Cali."

"No, can't afford to." Joey erased the spot where his pencil point had broken. _Fuck_. "Can you go dig around in Yogurt's desk? I need a pencil sharpener."

"Sure, but he might have it all remote-control booby trapped or something."

"Billy, shut up and get me a goddamned pencil sharpener."

"Okay, okay," Billy whispered, leaning over to kiss Joey's cheek. "You got it."

Joey smiled and turned the page, and carefully began marking out the template for a face.

* * *

"Um, you might want to tell him not to draw that in plain sight," Snuffy said to Billy, slamming his tray down on the table. Today's glop looked worse than yesterday's, and definitely worse than usual. The stress was getting to the cooks.

"Tell him yourself," Billy said, idly chewing on his sandwich. He was still congratulating himself on some private victory that Joey would have to ask about later. The trip up to the roof must have been more interesting than Billy had let on when he returned.

"They have cool guns," said Joey, perhaps louder than he should have. He didn't mean it, because guns _really_ weren't cool no matter what way you looked at it—unless they gave you a fighting chance at escaping, anyway. He frowned and erased the trigger.

"The military probably already knows what these models look like," Ric pointed out, using his butter knife. "I bet you could just leave them as they are."

"Details," Joey insisted, and re-sketched the trigger.

"Obsessed," chimed Snuffy, mimicking Joey's tone.

"Everybody shut the hell up," said Hank, skewering a potato wedge. "I can't hear myself think."

"Billy's not paying _you_ to think," said Snuffy, and, fuck, that was _it_ —

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," said Billy, already trapping Joey's arms in a vise-grip. "Yogurt, be a pal and pick up that pencil?"

"Sure," mumbled the kid, and set it down beside Joey's tray.

Joey relaxed, defeated. God, Billy was gonna get it later. Even if Snuffy bitched at them to shut up, he was still going to let Billy have it. Snuffy got away with too much shit; even Hank wouldn't give him the pounding he needed. _Fuckers_.

"Joey," Billy was saying softly, and then, in a whisper, " _Joey_."

 _Yeah, I'm scaring you_. _At least I'm scaring someone_. He closed his fist around the pencil, lifting it deliberately to the page. He traced the trigger once, twice, three times. Snuffy snorted and shook his head, both hands in the air.

"Sorry," Joey whispered back, and turned the page, almost tearing it.

* * *

Somehow, Billy found him after dinner. Joey had taken care to put himself somewhere that was out of sight of most of the guys, but not out of sight of the guards. He thought that maybe a few of them gave him pitying glances every once in a while, as if they had some facsimile of understanding for what it was to be the odd one out. Good, let them trust him. Let them pass without realizing that he was looking down on them.

"I tried to find the photocopies," Billy said. "I could only stay up there for five minutes. I looked everywhere. I think Phil's closet must have eaten them."

Joey held his breath and drew another line perpendicular to the one he'd just drawn.

"It's okay. I've got it. Halfway through."

Billy dropped to his knees in the grass, one hand against the rough stone.

"What's that?" he asked.

Joey squinted at it for a few seconds, then turned the notebook around. _Oops_.

"About where we're sitting now, actually. It's the courtyard."

"Huh," said Billy. "Your memory's better than mine."

"Nah," Joey replied, turning the book again, setting the point of his pencil against another truncated line. He closed his eyes and thought about sitting on the bell-tower ledge, watching the movement below him. The guards moved a lot, but they moved in patterns.

Billy shook his shoulder gently.

"I'm not asleep," Joey said.

"I know," Billy answered, and settled down beside him.

"They've probably got the plans from City Council," said Joey, drawing the line anyway.

"They were outdated when we made the photocopies, remember?"

"This whole fucking campus is outdated."

"Speaking of which, did you put in…"

Joey frowned and lifted his pencil, flipping back two pages. He tapped the space behind the kitchen and frowned, glancing dubiously up at Billy. "No," he said, sighing.

"Better put it in; it could be important."

"Yeah, right," Joey said, and sketched out the remaining three sides of the rectangle. "All this shit for tomorrow, do you think—"

"If the damned plane flies, yeah."

 _If the damned plan flies_. Joey closed his eyes again.

As if it made a difference, Billy brushed his hair back from his brow.

 _Some things_ , thought Joey, _make braving the heights worth it_.


End file.
